But did she have a choice really? If not tonight, then she’d never get the chance to deal with the Earl before her brother-in-law. She might be afraid of being forced to wed the likes of Christian Stanhope, but not nearly so terrified as she was at the thought of being leg shackled to Viscount Trebworthy for the rest of her life. And although common sense told her that Nicholas would never actually force her to wed someone against her will, she wasn’t sure whether bad breath would count as a good enough reason for reluctance.
A sudden shout put an end to her ruminating. Percy was pointing directly at her. Obviously, she’d been spotted. Without waiting to see if they were following, she turned her back and limped round the corner, hopefully in the direction of the Earl’s townhouse.
∞∞∞
‘Which way did he go, Freddy?’
‘Would we not be better to return to the house and determine if anything was stolen?’ Percy offered desperately as Freddy excitedly circled, his nose to the ground.
‘Don’t be so chuckleheaded, Percy,’ the Reverend grunted, trying to avoid getting wrapped up in the foxhound’s lead. ‘This is just like old times. The two of us throwing a rub in the way of a good-for-nothing scoundrel's nefarious scheme.’
Obviously, Freddy was of the same opinion as his tail started wagging, just before he suddenly took off across the road.
‘Tare an’ hou…,’ yelped the startled clergyman fighting to keep his feet. ‘Come on, Percy lad, the chase is on.’
‘But, Sir…’ Percy protested, nevertheless, picking up his cassock and hurrying after his superior. ‘Sir, I really think we ought to wait for…’ Whatever they were supposed to wait for was lost as the Reverend disappeared round the next corner. Uttering a small moan, the curate ceased his objections and picked up his speed. The last thing he wanted was to be left on his own in the dark in the middle of London. It might well be Mayfair, but the ruffian they were chasing gave evidence to the fact there were some desperate villains abroad.
∞∞∞
‘I wish to speak with his lordship,’ Chastity announced in the haughtiest tone she could muster.
‘Who’s askin?’ The person appeared to be a footman if his attire was anything to go by, but he certainly didn’t have a footman’s manners. Her request and indeed her presence might well be unorthodox, but even in her limited experience, Chastity recognised insolence when she heard it. In truth, she didn’t blame him. If she was honest, her visit was more than uncommon, it branded her a light skirt. Her face flaming in the dim light, she frantically sought to come up with a valid reason for her request. One that wouldn’t have the footman slamming the door in her face.
‘You may tell the Earl…’ she started, only to have the impudent individual interrupt her.
‘’Is lordship’s off out, so you’ll ‘ave to peddle yer wares elsewhere.’ Then he slammed the door in her face.
‘Fiend seize it,’ she muttered, wondering what on earth she was going to do next. Clearly, she was not going to be allowed an audience with the Earl, and while she was not above creating a commotion to get what she wanted (she was a Shackleford after all), she didn’t wish the whole street to be privy to her folly. So, the deuced bedchamber it was.Ifshe could find it.
Muttering another epithet that would have impressed evenJimmy, she stepped backwards and looked up. There were two windows on the second floor, and in one of them, she could clearly see Christian Stanhope silhouetted in the candlelight. Her heart raced as she realised she may well have located his bedchamber. The Earl appeared to be tying his cravat, so evidently, he did not have a valet. A minute later, he disappeared from the window, and the flickering light was gone.
A sudden clatter at the end of the small street indicated the arrival of a coach and four. Likely it was here for the Earl. Hurriedly, she stepped away from the lamplight and into the shadows cast by a large tree in front of the townhouse. Could she hope to accost his lordship before he climbed into the carriage? As she dithered in the darkness, the front door opened to reveal the reason for her visit. Gathering her courage, she lifted her skirts to step forward but halted as she realised the Earl was not alone. An older, portly man followed him down the steps. Grinding her teeth in frustration, she watched as the two men climbed into the waiting carriage and shut the door. Seconds later, they were gone.
Chastity remained under the tree, feeling tears of defeat sting her eyes. Her one chance and she’d fudged it. It was all very well locating the Earl’s bedchamber, but she still had no way of actually getting into it without being spotted, and since she couldn’t remain under the tree for the rest of the night, she had no choice but to return home. Truly, she’d made a complete mull of the whole thing.
Dashing away the tears that threatened to run down her cheeks, she stepped out of the tree’s shelter and looked back up towards Christian Stanhope’s bedchamber. After a second, her heart gave a dull thud as she realised he’d left the right-hand window open slightly.
And a thick branch of the very same tree she’d been hiding under finished just above the sill of that particular window. Turning back, she looked up into the shadowy branches. It was some years since she’d attempted to climb a tree, but the first limb was fairly close to the ground, and thereafter, it wouldn’t be too difficult to make her way up the tree as long as she took her time and was careful.
She hesitated for a few seconds, weighing up her choices. The only time she would be truly exposed would be once she accessed the branch butting the window. But the likelihood of someone noticing her this time of night were very slim. The streetlight was far enough away that it cast just enough light for her to see by without revealing her to anyone on the ground.
Pursing her lips, Chastity began to divest herself of her cloak. It would all too easily snag on the branches as she climbed. Bundling it up, she laid it in a shadowy corner, then without giving herself any time to question the folly of what she was doing, she studied the lowest branch. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her arms and swung herself up onto the limb.
∞∞∞
‘The deuced blackguard,’ Reverend Shackleford muttered as he and Percy watched the shadowy figure swing himself up into the lowermost branches of the tree outside the Earl of Stanhope’s residence. ‘He intends to rob the Earl. Is purloining from a duke not enough for this wretch? And all in one deuced night.’ He shook his head in disbelief and turned to Percy who was strangely silent. ‘I think now might be the time to call in the Runners,’ the clergyman declared. ‘We’ve done our duty, Percy lad, there noth…’ He paused and looked down at Freddy whose tail was wagging furiously. ‘What the deuce has got into you, lad?’ he questioned the foxhound, puzzled as Freddy started to whine.
‘I think he recognises the person climbing the tree,’ Percy responded faintly.
‘What the devil are you talking about, Percy?’ Reverend Shackleford frowned. ‘How would Freddy happen to be acquainted with a cutpurse?’
‘Because it’s your daughter Chastity.’
∞∞∞
27thJune 1798
Standing with his back to the door, Witherspoon waited for his eyes to adjust to the dimness of the hold. At first, he thought there was nothing of any value, but eventually he made out a number of large chests standing in the corner, sticking out behind the barrels of rum.
